I wonder who was the first
to come up with the idea
of a place
where everything
everyone’s ever lost
ends up in?
Somehow, that always
appealed to my imagination
I found it comforting
to believe in such a place
than to swallow
that something could just
simply stop existing.
I’d rather trust that
something I can no longer see
is still somewhere material.

In the same light,
I want to believe
that there shall always be
a middle ground
in our hearts
for the things
we almost had,
you know the things
we had but kind of didn’t,
or didn’t have but sort of did,
they have a place
in some mezzanine
we sometimes pause at
in the grand staircase leading to
the ballroom of our hearts
like the fourteen-tier
crystal chandelier
nobody really pays attention to
when they pass
but is beautiful,
beautiful nonetheless.

I almost loved you
you almost loved me
we were almost together
we were almost happy
and nothing else
almost didn’t matter
because we almost
had each other
it was almost as good as
anything else we’ve had
but it was too good
to be true
so it wasn’t
even if it was good

and outside
that make-believe place
that makes sense
only to the hopeful heart,
there is the hard, hard world
where you lose things
when you’re not careful
and nobody cares, really
where they go.